


Beginnings

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lover's Walk, Spuffy Appreciation Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S3. Spike's back in Sunnydale and Buffy is really tired of listening to him whine.Beta'd by Gort.





	Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Lover's Walk is one of my favorite all-time episodes, you can read on tumblr as to why! https://sunalsolove.tumblr.com/post/168681150804/spuffy-appreciation-week-day-1-favorite-episode

This night was never-ending.

Spike hadn’t been exactly wrong about the vamp attack on the magic shop being fun, or at least not boring. Only, it’d been a lot of vampires, even for Sunnydale. She and Angel had decided they needed to have some idea where they’d come from and if there were more. After Spike had assured them that Willow and Xander were (mostly) fine wherever he had the two of them stashed, Angel had rabbited away to try and pinpoint where the vamps had come from by following their scent while it was still fresh.

Buffy had been stuck with Spike sitting duty. She couldn’t wander too far with her charge because Angel might need to be able to find her quickly if things went south, so Spike and she had ended up pacing up and down the street outside the magic shop.

She really hadn’t been planning on having to endure Spike prattling on and on and on and on about Drusilla this and Drusilla that until Buffy wanted to pull her hair out and stuff it down Spike’s throat just so he’d shut up for at least five seconds. She was pretty sure he was drunk, and he was, without a doubt, completely pathetic. At least there was no one out this late to see her walking up and down the street with a weepy, sloshed vampire in tow.

As if on cue, a car, it’s headlights bright, turned the corner.

Great.

Spike was gesturing wildly and spewing some dumb crap about how Dru had thought cracks in the pavement secretly spelled things out and that Sunnydale was full of songs about death—like, duh, hellmouth—and he didn’t hear her when she said his name. Not the first, second, or loudly shouted third time. She resorted to grabbing his sleeve and hauling him into a nearby alley before the car got too close. He came unresisting, still monologuing, as she headed around a pile of junk that would block anyone on the street from seeing her playing nanny for Spike.

There was a dilapidated bench pushed up against the wall of the alley and she sank gratefully onto the rough wooden surface. It’d been a long day. Spike sat down beside her and let out the mother of all sighs.

“Let me guess,“ Buffy said. “You and Dru offed some drunk college frat boy in this alley.”

He looked around. “Don’t remember ever being in this one.”

“Small favors.” Maybe, just maybe, he’d be quiet

She wasn’t that lucky.

“One time—” he sniffed. Oh goody, more crying. “One time, we were in Paris, yeah? You know it?”

“I have heard of Paris.”

“Great. Nice city, that, except it’s full of French people.” He was looking earnestly at her.

“I imagine most cities in France are.”

He frowned. “Anyway, it was the wee hours of the morning, and me and Dru, we was sitting on this wrought iron bench. She was all into the party girls…what were they called then?” Spike leaned towards Buffy, his eyebrow raised.

“I have no idea,” she said, voice flat. She so not going to encourage him.

Spike’s brow wrinkled. “Short skirts, shorter hair…flappers. That’s it!”

This was a story from the 1920s?

“The boyish figure for chits was in then. Never did get it. If you want to shag a bloke, shag a bloke.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

He seemed to lose the thread of his story and his expression went vacant for a moment.

“Spike?” she asked. Was he going to pass out?

His face crumpled. “Dru always wanted me to bring her the ones with the best dresses, but I had to be careful not to get blood on the bints’ clothes or my dark princess wouldn’t want me to chain her up and torture her for sodding weeks!” He put his hands over his face and sobbed loudly, his shoulders shaking.

Buffy let out a gusty sigh and patted the idiot on the knee. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll want you to do…whatever it is you do again soon.”

Going boneless, Spike slithered off the bench, landing on his knees. He was still weeping as he scooted over and laid his head on her lap. “You’re so good and nice because you’re the Slayer!” He wailed the last word and started crying harder.

Buffy didn’t know what to do with her hands. She shoved at Spike’s forehead with one palm, but he didn’t budge. Stupid vampire! She wasn’t his therapist. Or his friend. Or a person that barely tolerated him.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Buffy slumped back against the alley wall and hovered her hands over his head. Eventually, Spike’s sobs became hiccupping little whimpers, but he stubbornly remained kneeling with his head in her lap. Her arms were getting way uncomfortable from how she was holding them, so, hoping no one ever found out about this because she would never live it down, she let her hands rest on Spike’s head.

Frowning, she looked down. His hair must have lost most of whatever junk he used to slick it back with because it was soft under her fingers. To Buffy’s absolute horror, she found herself not totally disgusted. At all. Her eyes went wide.

No, uh-uh, nope, no, no, no!

Her mind still went there, imagining him kneeling at her feet while both of them had a lot less clothing on. He could keep the jacket, though. Maybe gain a matching collar.

Argh.

Her pussy was apparently really into the idea because it pulsed hard.

Her head fall back against the bricks with a thump.

“Dru…we were in Brazil, right?” At least it didn’t sound like he was crying now.

“Sure,” Buffy said.

Spike shifted, moving so he was kneeling between her legs and his nose was more or less in her crotch.

Uh-oh.

“Spike?” she asked, not sure if she should punch him, only her body was thrumming, she felt pinned to the bench and—oh god—she didn’t really want him to stop whatever it was he was doing. Another strong stab of lust had her insides clenching.

Spike took a couple of deep breaths through his nose. “I thought me and her were having a good time, excepting she wasn’t much interested in shagging, but she’d go through phases like that, she did.”

His fingers walked their way up to the top of Buffy’s thighs.

She had to stop him, this was ridiculous. Good intentions firmly in place, she put her hands over his…and somehow ended up pulling his fingers higher to curl around her hips. They were cool as he worked them between her pants and her skin.

“It was a bit weird, yeah? She kept yelling at me every time she caught me having a wank.”

Buffy absolutely didn’t think about Spike wanking.

He started tugging on her waistband, working it slowly down towards her ass. “I mean, Dru sees things. Future, past, present. All kind of muck. Most of it doesn’t make a lick of sense. Part of what I love about her, the whole crazier than a loon thing.” Buffy lifted her hips so he could pull the fabric down to her ankles, vaguely feeling as if she were someone else. Spike’s mouth never stopped. “She’s not a mind reader, but it was like she knew what I was bloody thinking about. Which isn’t really fair. Bloke has the right to think about whatever he wants when he’s tossing off.”

Spike looked up expectantly at her from between her knees. “Uh, of course,” she said. Absolutely not thinking about what he might have been picturing while she continued to absolutely not think about him wanking.

“Wasn’t that weird anyway,” Spike muttered. He put his palms on her thighs and pushed them further apart. “And I’m a vampire. I can get off any blasted way I please.” His eyes dropped to her pussy. “Well…isn’t that neat.”

Leaning forward, he swiped his tongue from her opening to her clit in one broad stroke. They moaned in unison.

Spike’s tongue and lips felt absurdly good. Like, better than good. Great, even.

He did something she didn’t even have words to describe.

Holy…how…her whole body crackled with lust like she was a live wire.

Spike was really going to town, his tongue laving her relentlessly. It’d dip into her channel and then dart up to circle around her clit. He would switch to mouthing and sucking that sensitive spot, then he’d go back to using his tongue. His wonderful, amazing, fantastic tongue.

The lapping and slurping noises he was making as he feasted on her were obscene. And really hot.

Buffy threaded her hands into his hair and dug her fingernails in, making sure he stayed in place. She’d always thought she’d be too shy to let some guy do this to her, or that it wouldn’t feel good, but this was just Spike, who she hated, no there was reason to be shy, and everything that he was doing was freaking delightful.

She started rocking her hips and Spike growled, though it sounded encouraging rather than threatening. “That’s a girl,” he said against her pussy. “Ride my face, take what you need.”

His tongue lashed her clit and her toes curled, her thighs trembled, and she came with a hoarse groan. Her hands had a death grip on Spike and she was smashing his face against her as she jerked her hips through the endless waves of her climax.

She’d just returned from orbit and loosened her hold on him, grateful he didn’t need to breathe, when Spike let out a string of curses. She could feel him move his arms and there was the sound of him undoing his jeans. He pulled back from her and ran his hand over her pussy, making her gasp, then his fingers were gone and Spike gave a relieved sigh.

He returned to licking her clit with firm strokes while he…he…

He was jerking off.

Her stomach tightened and she moaned. It made her hotter to know he’d been so turned on from tasting her he needed to touch himself. Really hot.

Oh god, she was going to come again. Like now. Her entire body went rigid and she keened as she peaked. Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids while Spike’s tongue relentlessly stroked her.

When she was able to breathe again, she hungrily sucked in huge gulps of air.

Spike paused in his torture of her, though he didn’t stop masturbating, and tilted his face up towards hers.

“Poor kitten, you needed that,” he said.

She nodded mutely.

“You know,” Spike continued.  “When Dru was going on with that we-can-be-friends rot, she said some other things as well, a bunch of bloody nonsense rubbish it was.” Buffy’s shoulder’s slumped. He was still moping about his ex? “Mostly about how I tasted like ashes and was covered in you. You! The Slayer! Can you believe that?”

Buffy blinked. His lips, cheeks, and chin were shining wetly, slick with her juices.

“I have no idea what Dru could have possibly meant,” Buffy said dryly.

“Barmy bint.” Spike huffed. “Now pull your shirt down, pet.”

Buffy grabbed the edges of her neckline, hesitated for a heartbeat, then yanked the fabric aside so her breasts were freed. 

Spike’s eyelids dropped to half-mast and a dreamy smile played over his lips. “Pretty titties,” he slurred.

With a surprising amount of grace, Spike rose to his feet.

Guh.

That was a nice penis to have.

Spike widened his stance and braced a palm against the wall over her head. She couldn’t take her eyes off his cock as he slid his fist up and down his length.  His hand sped up and Buffy bit her lip. It was really a pity he was still mostly dressed and she couldn’t see more of him.

He moaned roughly, hips bucked, and his cock jerked in his fist as he came. Semen splattered across her breasts and she gasped. She brought her hand up and smeared her fingers through it, rubbing it into her skin.

Spike pushed away from the wall and stumbled back a couple of steps. His expression was stunned, as if he just figured out what he’d done.

Buffy was suddenly very aware she was sitting on a hard, wooden bench in a dirty alley, her pants around her ankles and her mortal enemy’s come dripping down her chest. She adjusted her blouse, stood while pulling her pants up, and grabbed the edges of her jacket before crossing her arms over her stomach.

After having been chatty-cathy all night, Spike seemed to have run out of things to say.

The silence became uncomfortable.

“Um, so, what now?” she asked.

Spike shook his head, then tucked himself away and did up his jeans. “Well, sod the spell. Your chums are at the factory, and I’m going to do what I should have bloody done in the first place and chain…” he trailed off. “Going to leave before Peaches gets back and beheads me.” He took a couple of strides, then paused and looked over his shoulder. “Might want to have a shower or three and wait a couple days before you go making doe eyes at your honey again. He’s going to be able to smell me on you for a while.”

Buffy nodded weakly. She hadn’t even thought about Angel. Who was her…what was he exactly? Was he anything at all now? Especially after she just…with Spike. Who was she, this girl who did things in alleys?

Spike took another step, halted once more, and looked at her again.

“Just go!” she snapped. Hurt she didn’t want to feel over being left by someone she didn’t even like was bubbling up. The last thing she needed was for Spike to notice. His face was unreadable, his eyes hard as they stared at her.

Time seemed to stop.

His expression softened, became something she didn’t dare try to name.

Before she could draw another breath, she was slammed up against the wall, Spike’s lips cool and soft on hers. It was a fleeting press and then he was gone and the alley empty.

Buffy raised her fingers to her mouth, trailing them over her lips.

She had the terrible feeling it was going to take more than a shower to wash Spike off her.


End file.
